Nightcap
by Laura Mayfair
Summary: Tom Zarek shares a nightcap with Laura Roslin while harboring her on the Astral Queen. Rated: M.


Laura watched as Tom Zarek slipped quietly into the small anteroom on the second floor of the _Astral Queen_ where she sat at a little round table with Captain Apollo and Elosha flanking her on either side. Zarek sauntered in - with seemingly impeccable timing - at the precise moment she was closing the informal meeting.

"It's late," said Tom with a smile that seemed to her too easy, too effortlessly solicitous. "You should get some rest before the next jump." It was a general statement, ostensibly meant for the collective group, but Laura observed that Zarek's keen gaze rested a little longer on her than on the other two.

Her tiny room was only a couple of doors down. Even so, Zarek, obviously determined to play the role of magnanimous host, insisted on walking her _personally_ to her quarters.

"It's small but it's warm," said Zarek as he opened the door for her. "I am sorry about the freezer incident from the other night. Best I could do at the time. I took the liberty of leaving a couple of extra blankets for you tonight."

"Mmmm, we do appreciate your efforts, Mr. Zarek," said Laura without enthusiasm. She gave him a bland smile.

He invited her, yet again, to call him Tom.

"Goodnight, Mr. Zarek," said Laura pointedly as she placed a hand against the door.

"You really do have that down," said Zarek with an amused chuckle, placing one of his own hands against the door frame. The mask of cordiality had evaporated and Laura got the impression that the real Tom Zarek had just stepped forward.

"I'm sorry?"

"That unimpressed imperial air. The royal we. Please believe me, Madame President...I say this with admiration and not malice." He touched a hand to his heart for emphasis. "It's so incredibly illuminating watching the way you can turn it on and off so effortlessly."

"I'm not even going to make a guess as to what 'it' refers to," said Laura coldly, all pretense of politeness gone.

"'It' refers to whatever your agenda is at the time. An hour ago it was - how did you put it? Oh, yes, playing the _religious card_ when you recorded your little speech to rally the fleet. Brilliantly followed up by that luminous - angelic really - expression that you managed to affect for the people who sought your _blessing_." He bowed at her, a mockingly deferential gesture. "I couldn't have done it better myself."

Laura's eyes flashed. "Is there a point to this spiel of yours? If I'd known that I'd be subject to your rhetoric, I would have taken my chances in the brig." She smiled sweetly. "At least in there it was quiet."

"I could arrange that. We have plenty of cells on the bottom two floors. Take your pick. I'll even take you down myself."

"Oh, Mr. Zarek," said Laura, as she shook her head slowly, "I have no doubt that, given the opportunity, you'd take me down with both eyes closed and your hands tied behind your back."

He shrugged at her and there was something almost good-natured in his answering smile. "Not with my eyes closed, Madame President. You _are_ lovely to look at, after all."

The tension between them eased just a fraction. They gazed at one another in mutual appraisal. Neither of them moved or spoke for a few moments. The smooth compliment certainly didn't flatter Laura but it did pique her curiosity. Just what in the world was Tom Zarek up to anyway?

Laura crossed her arms over her chest. "What exactly do you want, _Tom_?" she asked slowly, emphasizing the use of his first name as she uttered it for the first time, her voice purposefully honeyed when she said it.

His voice was equally lyrical. "Have I asked you for anything?"

Laura laughed, a warm, rich, buttery sound. "No. But that doesn't mean you don't want something."

"I'm not a fan of martial law. I'm helping you because I believe it's the right thing. Simple as that."

Laura released a rapid breath - a quick rush of air. "Nothing is as simple as that with you, Tom." scoffed Laura.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend. At least, that's what the lovely lady said to me earlier."

"I don't think we qualify as friends per se."

Tom's smile was broad, a touch of admiration in his voice. "You really don't budge, do you?"

Laura shook her head.

"Fair enough," said Tom. "What would you call us then?"

Laura answered almost too quickly. "An unholy alliance."

Tom chuckled.

Laura glared pointedly at her "guest," silently willing him to get lost. But her chilly expression did not appear to be having the desired effect - as he was still hovering earnestly in the doorway of her quarters, one shoulder poised languidly against the metal door.

Laura cleared her throat and followed it up with a delicate yawn.

"Tired?" asked Tom.

"As a matter of fact - yes."

"Have a nightcap with me and I'll let you get to bed." When she started to refuse, he added an oddly sincere, "Please. I hate to drink alone."

"A nightcap? Really?" Laura's eyes twinkled with amusement. "If I didn't know any better, Mr. Zarek, I'd almost think you'd planned this."

"Tom," he reminded her. He smiled. "There's a bottle of ambrosia in the drawer."

Laura sighed and hurriedly opened the drawer as Tom stepped the rest of the way into the room, the door closing behind him. She gracefully plucked the small bottle from its resting place, unscrewed the cap, and then handed it to him.

"Cheers, Madame President. To unholy alliances." He raised the bottle toward her in toast before taking a long sip of ambrosia, and then passed the bottle her way.

Laura took a tiny sip. The warm liquid sent a pleasant trill throughout her system. She handed the bottle back to Tom but he didn't take another sip. Instead, he screwed the cap back on and placed the bottle back in the drawer. His blue eyes wandered across her features, moving lazily between two locations - her eyes and her lips.

He couldn't possibly be intending to -

Her contemplation regarding the man's intentions was cut short when Tom Zarek took her face in his hands, far more gently than she would have expected, and lowered his mouth, one thumb against either side of her jaw. He tilted her chin up, improving the angle between them.

It was barely a kiss. The action was more a simple grazing of his mouth against hers. There had probably been more contact between them on Cloud Nine when she had kissed each of his cheeks in turn in front of the press.

Laura narrowed her eyes at him. "What game do you think you're playing, Mr. Zarek?"

"None. I'm certainly not foolish enough to try to seduce you if that's what you think. Don't you ever do anything for the sheer simple pleasure of doing it, Laura?"

"No," answered Laura flatly, clearly seeing where this was going.

He offered her a lopsided grin and shook his head sadly. "That's a travesty if it's true - which I highly doubt it is."

He leaned in again, slowly, and pressed her back against the wall, gently capturing each of her wrists. He held onto her with enough conviction to make his intentions entirely clear - but not so forcefully that she couldn't move away from him if she wanted to.

Laura's heart was racing and she wondered if Tom could feel the quickening of her pulse against the thumbs that were pressing on her pulse points. The wall, so cold against her back, gave her a sudden chill. Or maybe it wasn't from the cold metal at all. Tom was watching her intently, his eyes on the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

He leaned down and kissed her again and this second kiss was as delicious as a full-bodied glass of wine. He increased the pressure of his mouth on hers when she responded, letting go of her wrists when he felt her body shift, ever so slightly, toward his own. He moaned plaintively against her mouth when she slipped her arms around his torso and pulled him more tightly against her. It wasn't long before what began as a slow-building kiss quickly escalated into an outright make-out session against the wall of the small space.

"Is that what this is for, Mr. Zarek?" asked Laura, "For the sheer pleasure of it?"

"I've wanted to for a long time, Laura," Tom admitted in between more kisses. He was a good kisser though she'd never tell him that.

"If you breathe a word of this to anyone," Laura warned in a voice that was sweetly melodic, "I'll deny it to the day I die."

Tom moved his mouth down to the hollow of her throat and then kissed a slow path to whisper into her right ear. "I never kiss and tell, Madame President, not that anyone would believe me in this case even if I did." He grazed his lips against her earlobe, his breath warm against her skin.

"I don't like you, Mr. Zarek," said Laura when she felt his hands drift down to her waist. His thumbs grazed the edge of her blouse, poised and ready to pluck the silky fabric from the waistband of her tailored slacks.

His mouth was on hers again. Laura parted her lips and took his bottom lip in between her own, nibbling with a pressure that bordered on an actual bite. His tongue darted out and swirled delicately inside the soft contours of her mouth, tasting her fully for the first time. The pleasurable sensation rippled its way straight down to Laura's sex. She started to do the math in her head, how many months prior to the attacks, how long since she'd done this.

Too frakking long by her admittedly fuzzy calculations.

His hands were underneath her blouse, rubbing against her bare abdomen. He squeezed her breasts, a little desperately, thumbs padding along the nipples through the lace of her bra. His erection strained against her thigh. Laura gave a quick upward tilt of her hips and Tom groaned against the soft skin of her throat when she pressed up against his straining cock. The lips that had been nibbling with such practiced care on the curve of her neck grew slack. He swore.

Laura smiled.

Tom grabbed her waist and turned her toward the wall, searching furtively for the buttons on her pants.

"On the side, genius," said Laura archly, tossing her head back to throw him a caustically impatient glower as he fumbled with her clothing and then his own.

Tom laughed. "You're such a bossy, condescending little bitch." His hands were gentle, a surprisingly arousing contrast to the roughness in his voice as he ran fingertips up and down her spine and then swirled teasing patterns along her waistline before finally yanking her underwear down.

Eager fingers parted her folds and glided over her clit. "You're so frakking wet," he murmured into her ear, a trifle smug. Laura groaned. She'd worry about putting Mr. Zarek in his place later. For now she just wanted him to frak her.

He pushed inside her all at once, one hand anchoring her waist. Laura's palms were pressed flat against the wall for necessary leverage. She slipped a little when he was fully sheathed and Tom gripped her tighter, angling his body to give them both more support. The angle wasn't exactly perfect for her and she realized, regretfully, that she might not be able to come like this. She considered firing a cranky directive at her partner when Tom skimmed his free hand down the front of Laura's body to the triangle of red curls. He slid skillful fingers over the tiny bundle of nerves in time to his heavy thrusts. Laura bit hard on her lip to keep from whimpering in near-gratitude when he hit on a particularly sensitive spot in perfect time with a particularly deep push of his hips.

She wasn't as quiet as she'd intended to be when she came, releasing an uncontrolled stream of nonsensical obscenities and breathy cries. He followed a few thrusts later, spilling into her with his own drawn-out and well-satisfied grunt. His hips bucked against her erratically as he rode out the final aftershocks of his climax. Tom panted against her neck as he regained his composure. The fingers that reached to idly caress her waist were damp.

The hazy fog of unsated lust lifted, and the couple disentangled themselves from one another without making eye contact. Tom pulled up his pants with as much wobbly finesse as he could muster and tucked himself back into his boxers. He smiled at Laura. She did not return the smile as she primly straightened her blouse, giving her tousled hair a quick shake.

Tom shook out Laura's rumpled pants and handed them to her.

"Thank you, Mr. Zarek," she said, accepting them. Her voice was clipped.

"Can I at least get a farewell kiss so I don't feel like I'm just a boy-toy?"

Laura leaned in. She enjoyed the fleeting certainty in Tom's eyes as she did, the easy assurance that she was going to kiss him. She brushed one of her red hairs off of the collar of his shirt instead and looked pointedly down to his groin.

"You're far too old to be a boy-toy. Now zip up your frakking fly, Mr. Zarek," she ordered sharply before pushing him toward the door.

Tom obeyed with a light laugh that was almost - but not quite - endearing. To his credit, he did take the hint about leaving - but not before planting a quick, defiant kiss on Laura's cheek.


End file.
